Darkest Before Dawn
by allonsysilvertongue
Summary: There was one secret that Effie held close to her heart. "I never meant for you to know," she looked away. "They were going to kill you. I ... I did it to keep you alive. If they had gone straight to you and threaten you, there's nothing to hold you back – you would have retaliated and... They'll kill you, Haymitch."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.**

**Warning for dark themes**

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Darkest before dawn

Hands roamed her body and Effie squeezed her eyes shut in the darkness of the room. The man on top of her grunted, his chest sleek with sweat and his breath smelled of tobacco. Effie shuddered and bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

He rolled off her and ran his hand down her shoulder to the curves of her hip where it rested as he fell asleep. The goose bumps never left her skin.

When she was sure that he was asleep and dead to the world, Effie made her way slowly to the bathroom, staggering. The spot between her legs felt sore. She retched and heaved into the toilet bowl. The bile rose up in her stomach, the metallic taste lingered in her mouth. She felt dirty and disgusted.

Each time, every time some man sullied her body, she would end up in the bathroom desperately trying to keep the contents of her stomach in.

She tiptoed out of the bathroom, the plush carpet lining up the hotel suite absorbing the sound of her delicate feet. She glanced briefly at the balding man sprawled on the bed, his ring-covered fingers lying splayed across his huge belly. Effie clutched her stomach, the disgust once again taking over her. She choked back a sob.

Quickly, she left the hotel room and made her way back to the Penthouse.

XxX

"Had a good time, sweetheart?" Haymitch barked out a harsh laugh. "Partying with your friends? Celebrating District Twelve's first volunteer?"

"You're drunk, Haymitch. You don't know what you're talking about."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted and she didn't want to have to deal with Haymitch. She needed a shower. Her skin was tingling and the need to scrub it raw was overwhelming. She had to rub off the feel of that man's touch from her, to scrub it until she could no longer feel him on her. Her revulsion with her own body had reached its limit and her urge to destroy it almost overrode her senses.

She had considered ending her life but she could never go through it. The desperate young woman had spent hours sitting on the ledge of a rooftop at her apartment building one night, her life flashing before her mind's eyes. In the end, hours after the moon had risen; Effie stood up with shaky feet and made her way back into her apartment. _ I can't let Snow win._

Haymitch walked towards her and swayed lightly on his feet. _No_, Effie thought, _he isn't that drunk, not if he could still walk steadily on his feet._

He lifted his hand and Effie watched as it moved closer to her face. This were the pair of hands that had rubbed her shoulder awkwardly when he walked in on her crying one evening five years ago. He had surprisingly gentle hands, something that should not belong to brash men like those standing before her. He had tried to soothe her even though he wasn't even aware of the reason behind the tears. Those hands would not harm her but still she flinched when his thumb smeared the tear track marring her almost perfect skin. She hadn't realised that she had been crying. She blinked. Rings on each finger, hands that had touched her in places she did not want to be touched just hours ago - the mental images invading her mind.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

He retracted his hand. His eyes hardened and Effie saw the hurt in it. His voice was cold when he spoke next.

"You smell of cigarette and sex."

She averted his gaze, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame. She brushed past him but his hand closed around her upper arm. He leaned in inches from her ear and whispered, his warm breath tickling her skin.

"Did you let him touch you or were you as snappy with him as you were with me? He wouldn't have like that. I suppose that would explain the bruise on the corner of your lips."

Her eyes widened. She hadn't bothered looking in the mirror. Couldn't bear to face and look at herself. She had dressed hastily and left the room. It was already dark by then. She had assumed that nobody would be awake to see her. Of course, things always went wrong when it came to her. Haymitch had to be awake and he wasn't drunk today of all days.

She yanked her hand from his grip and turned her face towards his, the fire burning in her eyes.

"Don't ever speak to me like that ever again, Mr. Abernathy. You don't know half the things you claim you know."

"Back to formalities, Effie?"

He stared her down and she held her ground. He broke the gaze and gave her a curt nod.

"Have a good night then, Ms. Trinket," The tone in his voice was mocking her.

XxX

Effie sunk into the bathtub, letting the warm water soak her. Her skin was red and raw from where she had scrubbed them earlier. She cursed that man and the Capitol. She cursed Haymitch for the stunt he pulled during the reaping and she cursed herself for her stupidity.

It was what had gotten her in trouble. She became an Escort and had watched helplessly as her first tribute was slain mercilessly in the bloodbath. Something woke in her, something clicked into place. She became increasingly restless as the numbers of the children she had unwittingly murdered grew over the years, the list of names getting longer.

One day, in the privacy of her own room, she had cried and railed against the Capitol. She had cursed them angrily, wishing ill will on President Snow. How was she to know that her own house was bug? That they had been listening?

Politics was never one of Effie's strong points. She had never understood the game. She knew now that when someone was given power, they lived in constant fear of losing it and in order not to lose it, the threats had to be eliminated.

The Peacekeepers came for her the next morning. When they took off the bag covering her face, the smiling face of President Snow swam in her vision. Her stomach twisted. There was nothing kind about that smile.

Her way of thinking was unbecoming of a Capitol citizen; she was a traitor for doubting the hand that had fed her. At that moment, Effie was a threat and she needed to be streamlined back to the masses, her thoughts put back on track. She had no living family member Snow could use to threaten her. Snow thought he had no way to persuade Effie to fall in line but he had mentioned the punishment meted out to Haymitch for his stunt and Snow was perceptive enough to notice how she had tensed up at the mention of Haymitch's name. Effie wasn't always good at acting and it had cost her.

As a reminder to her that Snow alone controlled the fate of his people, Effie was sold to the highest bidder with the threat of Haymitch's death hanging over her head.

President Snow was a vindictive man. Effie saw a human in him but there was no humanity left in his heart. It was as black as the night skies - the paranoia and the hatred had corroded it.

He seemed hellbent on blaming Effie for everything that could go wrong with the District Twelve team. When Haymitch had punched a Peacekeeper during the victory banquet two years ago, Effie spent the night paying for his mistake.

Like Effie, Haymitch had no one left for Snow to threaten. And Haymitch couldn't be sold the way Effie and Finnick were. Nobody wanted to buy and sleep with a drunk. He might have been a handsome victor once but he was too much trouble now, more than what it was worth.

Snow had thought that he had come up with the perfect plan. Surely, the Capitol Escort would have informed the troublesome Victor that she had to pay for his mistakes? Surely, the thought of someone else taking his fall would keep him in line? But Effie had kept quiet. She never said a word.

Haymitch was bitter and angry. She could feel the underlying current of deadly electricity coursing through him each time the Capitol made a grand entertainment or laughed about his dead tributes. He had his family killed, his girl murdered - he didn't need to know that Effie was on the list of people he couldn't protect. The knowledge would kill him and Effie didn't need his protection.

She wrapped herself in etiquette and manners, constantly reprimanding Haymitch and reminding him to uphold those values. She had hoped that he would listen even if for a bit but the more she commented on his lack of manners, the more she tried to groom him - the worse he got.

He had done it to spite her but he failed to realize that she had to pay for it - with her body.

Tonight was payment for his mistake too. Effie closed her eyes as the event during the Reaping swam before her mind's eyes.

"Lots of ... Spunk. More than you!" Haymitch had shouted. Effie's breath hitched and caught in her throat.

_Stop, please stop,_ she had pleaded silently.

"More than you!" and this time he pointed his fingers straight and directly into the camera.

Effie stared at him hard and swallowed painfully before slipping back into her act.

After the Tributes' parade, she was called to the President's office. She stood in front of his desk as his eyes swept her from head to toe. She schooled her expression into a guilty apologetic mask.

"You failed yet again, Ms Trinket. You have allowed your mentor to disgrace our very nation. I expected better from you."

"Yes, sir. I -"

"You know what will happen. Do tell him to behave himself, won't you?"

She was dismissed and two days later, she ended up in a hotel suite with a balding man sporting an expensive suit. Julius Hoffman.

XxX

"Tell him," Finnick whispered, as he leaned against the wall of an empty alley.

"I can't, Finnick."

She shook her head. He exhaled and Effie could tell that he was frustrated.

"You've done well to keep up your act, to be the good citizen you're expected to be. But lately, it's all for him, Effie - all for his misconduct."

"I don't know how - he won't understand. He hated the Capitol so much, he'll think I'm bluffing, or... Or he'll think I deserve it."

This time, it was Finnick who shook his head sadly.

"Don't think so lowly of him that way, Effie."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, providing her the comfort that she needed. A touch from another human that did not seek any sexual gratifications, a touch from someone who understood her pain because he himself was going through it.

Finnick had sought her out when they had passed by each other on a couple of occasions at the hotel lobby, or the hotel corridor. Her eyes were downcast as she tried to avoid his puzzled gaze.

"You too?" he had asked as he danced with her during one of the victory tour.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Odair,"

"Drop the pretenses. I've done this longer than you. That hotel is frequently used for these exact activities. Buying and selling of Victors. If they're doing it to us, I can't imagine why they can't do it to Escorts. And you're not the first, I saw anyway. The Escort from Eight as well, if you must know."

Effie kept her silence and chose instead to focus on the movement of her feet trying to keep up with the rhythm of the music.

Finnick continued, his voice low, the charming smile etched on her face. "And, if it was a one night stand, I imagined your eyes wouldn't have looked so haunted."

He paused and waited. She had stiffened in her arms as he caught her bluff.

She hissed. "You want me to admit? Yes, yes, he is selling me the way he is selling you."

"Meet me tonight and we'll talk about it."

She spilled everything she had kept to herself to Finnick that night. He became her confidante.

XxX

Her nerves were strung high, she was restless. She spent the duration of the Games worrying about Katniss and Peeta. She worried about herself too. She watched Haymitch like a hawk in case he did anything that would get her in trouble.

But this year was different. He was sober and he was currently charming a group of sponsors into giving him what he needed.

His eyes flitted across the room and landed on Effie who had trained her gaze on him. He smirked and jerked his head to a corner of the room.

She waited for him under an alcove, a glass of champagne in her hand.

"We have more than enough for a set of burn medicine,"

Effie looked at him and nodded clearly distracted.

"I thought you'd be ecstatic that someone was willing to sponsor us," he asked drawled lazily.

Effie chided herself for slipping in front of him. A smile broke on her face and her voice took on a chipper note.

"Of course I am, Haymitch. It's wonderful. You must send it to her now. She needs it. Oh, I think I'll be by the screen, don't want to miss her reaction when she gets your parachute."

He frowned at her.

"What's wrong with you?" his voice was softer. Or perhaps, she was just imagining it.

_I'm exhausted. I'm dirty and ashamed and there is nothing I could do that could wash this filth away._

"Nothing," she answered instead.

The look in his eyes told her that he didn't believe her. Her heart sank.

_Tell him_, Finnick had said.

She opened her mouth to say something but Chaff's booming voice had caught Haymitch's attention. He turned briefly towards her.

"Go on then, wait by the screen. Our first sponsor in a long while, you wouldn't wanna miss that, sweetheart."

XxX

They won. They won.

Her heart soared and swelled with pride. For the first time in a long while, the smile on her face wasn't forced. Then she faltered and stared at the screen. The Capitol won't take lightly to that.

Compared to her crimes against the Capitol, what Katniss and Peeta had done was worse. Their punishment would be harsher. Effie bit down on her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Peeta - the charming blue eyed boy - his fate would be like Finnick. And Katniss – the night lock was her idea. Would her family be murdered just like Haymitch's?

She deflated and before she could collapse on the leather sofa, Haymitch had guided her by the elbow. She let him lead her into his room.

"Speak," he said, as he cleared the dirty laundry off his bed to make space for them to sit.

She shook her head and glanced around his room, wary of listening devices. There was a lamp in the corner of room, buried under piles of clothing.

Haymitch gestured towards it.

"The bug's there. They won't be able to make out the words. Just muffled voices."

Her head snapped up to look at him in surprise.

"I've done this longer than you, sweetheart."

She lifted a shoulder and bit her lips. Such a simple command - speak. Where should she even begin? The lump in her throat was suffocating her. Effie wasn't even sure if she wanted Haymitch to know.

"You know they're in trouble."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Effie nodded.

"I saw your face change when you realized what they've done. You're a pretty damn good actor, Trinket. But when you thought no one's looking, your mask slipped and I see someone else. I know - your mask slipped on several occasions with me around. You thought I was too drunk to notice."

She covered her face with her hands and mumbled, "What do you see?"

He shrugged.

"Someone vulnerable, someone human. You're scared half the time. Your eyes looked manic. It's the same look in a tribute's eyes when they realized that there's no way out."

"You're very observant."

"It's easier to watch people when they pass you off for a drunk. Like you."

"Why are you watching me?"

The panic crept into her. If he had been watching her, how much did he know? What did he know?

He gave her a faint smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You're the only one who's always around for me to look at."

He clapped his knee and stood up.

"Be careful, sweetheart. Keep that mask on - things are going to be a lot more difficult now."

She followed and stood facing him. Effie wasn't sure what just happened but she felt an understanding settle between them. She thought Haymitch understood that there was more to her than just the brightly dressed Capitol Escort.

She had no idea what made her do it but she felt the need to do something bold. Maybe it was Katniss' act of bravery - but Effie stood on tiptoes and planted a soft warm kiss on his stubble cheeks.

She left the room to board the hovercraft that would take them to Katniss and Peeta.

XxX

She swallowed as she watched the recap for the Reaping. Some of the Victors who had been sold by the Capitol were now tributes in the Quell. That would mean the buyers would turn to the Escorts to satisfy their lust.

True enough, she received a phone call that night for an appointment the following night and a room number in the same hotel suite.

It was not her acting against the Capitol. It was not Haymitch's drunken self that had angered the Capitol. No, they just needed a body.

Effie had long stopped crying. She had grown numb, had accepted her fate that her body was not hers. She was up for trade.

She gave a final cursory check in the mirror and sprayed her perfume.

"Going somewhere?"

Effie squeaked and jumped. Haymitch was by the door, a bottle of wine in his hand and bouquet of flowers in the other.

Her heart was in her throat. _Are those for ... Did he buy them for me?_ She shook her head. _Of course not. Haymitch would never._

He stepped closer and handed her the flowers. She turned the card in her hand and her stomach plummeted.

Julius Hoffman. The same man she had slept with at the beginning of the 74th Games.

"Boyfriend?" Haymitch asked chuckling.

"No."

"Romantic interest, then."

"It really is none of your business, Haymitch."

He stepped closer. So close they were sharing breaths. Her pulse raced.

"Wrong. It is my business. You're my Escort and each time you leave at night dressed like this with that ... perfume, you'd come back smelling of sex. You'll lock yourself up in your room and your eyes ... They're -"

He stopped abruptly and stepped back. Effie blinked. She was wary of his mood swings.

"For someone who doesn't care, you notice a lot of things about me," she said through gritted teeth. She walked past him, careful not to let her hands brush against his.

_Calm down, Effie. Don't break down._

She closed the door to the Penthouse just as Haymitch whispered, "Wrong again, sweetheart."

XxX

The arena had exploded moments ago. Haymitch was destroying any potentially incriminating evidence in the fire.

"Get your things, Effie. I told you to pack yesterday. Get your things, hurry."

She didn't move.

"For fuck's sake, are you deaf? Get your fucking things, Trinket."

"No."

He threw the remaining papers in the fire and strode towards her. He grabbed her arms and shook her roughly.

"We are on the brink of a Rebellion," he said, as though Effie needed reminding. "You have to come with us, you're one of us."

"No, Haymitch. You go. You're needed at Thirteen. I'll stay here. I can do a lot from here. Lead them away from you... False information..."

He shook his head angrily.

"That wasn't the plan. The plan was for you to come with us."

"Plans changed."

"You'll die," he said urgently.

"That was a risk we all took when we agreed to this, Haymitch."

She caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly.

"This is stupid. This is self-sacrifice. Come along, now," he tugged her hand.

"It has been self-sacrifice for so long now."

His eyebrows merged in confusion.

"You're wasting time, Haymitch. Go now."

"I promised. I promised Finnick that I'll bring you along," he said desperately.

Effie cried and shook her head again. "They'll come for you. I can buy you time. I can -"

"Lead them away from us," he nodded.

"Stay alive for me, Haymitch."

He grasped her face between his hands, his thumb rubbing against her cheekbones.

"I'll come for you. Just... Don't give up, stay strong."

Effie laughed nervously. _Stay strong._ So different from his customary 'Stay alive'.

He kissed her lips, softly and hesitantly. She blinked away the tears. When was the last time someone had treated her gently?

She kissed him back. Her hands grabbed a fistful of his hair, tangling them even more.

Haymitch reluctantly pulled himself away and gave her one last look before turning on his heels and running out of the Penthouse.

XxX

Effie was going to die. She was sure of it. If it wasn't from the wounds inflicted on her body then it would be from the long-term health complications that could arise from the constant flow of adrenaline being released into her system.

She was on edge, anxious and tense ever since she had been escorted by Peacekeepers to the President's office but being trapped in the dark dank cell was wearing her nervous system thin.

Every little noise caused her to jump in fright. The stomp of a Peacekeeper's boots, the click of the metal lock on her cell, the touch of someone's hand on her skin and lights. She was even afraid of lights now.

Bright lights. It meant interrogation. It blinded her, made her extremely disorientated.

Her heart rate increased. Her breathing became more laboured. She fought and she fought her captors hard. She kept Rebel information, twisted them and sent Snow's troops on a merry goose chase. She had to pay for it when they realised that the information was useless.

She repeated it in her head. _I'm going to die._ The building shook. Footsteps scrambled in a blind mass of panic outside her cell. Her muscles coiled with every loud explosion.

There it was again. Whoever it was had shone the lights straight at her face.

_Here? They're doing the interrogation here in my cell?_

She had always been brought to another room. The lights were brighter there, more intense, a higher volt. Effie could always feel the heat emanating from the bulbs.

She shut her eyes against the lights. Footsteps approached her.

"Oh no, no, no. Please be alive. Effie, please."

Gentle hands touched her, thumb under her chin lifting her face up facing the ceiling. She opened her eyes and stared straight into the glassy silvery eyes that she knew only belonged to one man.

_He's here. He came. He came for me._

XxX

He was angry. He was in one of his moods again - angry, bitter and defeated. She saw the tears streaming down his face. He didn't realise that he was crying.

"You could have told me, Effie! I would have –"

"You would have what? What would you have done, Haymitch?"

He ran his hands angrily through his hair. He paced the space between the foot of her bed and white wall of the hospital.

"I don't know. But I would have done something, anything. Wouldn't drink so much, I would have kept my mouth shut. I wouldn't have taunted them. I would..."

He sank on the armchair next to her bed and hung his head. His hand gripped her file, the seal of the Capitol stamped on its front page. She knew what was in that file. Records of the clients she was sold to – the reason for her punishment neatly written on its margin.

_Ms Trinket was discovered to have spoken traitorously against the Capitol. _

_Misconduct by mentor of District 12._

The first few pages listed in detail the reasons for her punishment but the recent records had simply state the reason as "Haymitch Abernathy."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Effie," he pleaded, clasping her hands between his.

His eyes reflected the desperation in his voice. She looked at him, felt the tears falling down her cheeks.

"You saved me. It's enough, we're even."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to argue. But Effie had pulled his head down where it rested against her breast. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder.

"It's okay, Haymitch. It's okay, I'm not... I don't hate you. I've never hated you. I was angry at you, sometimes I wished you could just shut up but it's not you, is it? They've never owned you - you had no one left they could threaten. How were you supposed to know that they would use me?"

"You could have told me."

"I never meant for you to know," she looked away. "They were going to kill you. I ... I did it to keep you alive. If they had gone straight to you and threaten you, there's nothing to hold you back – you would have retaliated and... They'll kill you, Haymitch."

"Why? You hated me."

"Pay attention, Haymitch. I said I never hated you."

"I still don't understand, Effie. I was your colleague, why... Why go to that extent to protect me?" he pushed himself off the bed and looked at her.

"I don't know... I just wanted to see you safe..." she trailed off. He raised an eyebrow dubiously.

She had survived torture, lived through a Rebellion, sold off on countless occasions and yet, she couldn't face him. She couldn't admit her feelings to herself and to him. If Effie admitted her feelings, it would be real and she couldn't bear to face him if he pushed her away. She was dirty and broken. She was a tool and every time she walked by a mirror, she was reminded of how filthy she was.

_But he had kissed me that night the Victors broke out of the arena. _Effie clenched her jaw and passed it off as a heat of the moment.

"You're a good actor, Trinket – you're good at hiding things. I won't press it. Rest now."

He bent down and kissed her forehead. _He didn't believe me._

XxX

There was a knock on the door. Effie was packing what little belongings she had into a small duffel bag.

"Come in,"

Haymitch walked in and glanced around her room. She looked up, the surprise evident in the face.

"Oh, it's – Hello, Haymitch. It's been awhile."

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. They hadn't seen each other for nearly a year. Effie was a resident in an institution receiving psychiatric treatments. _Therapy._ Haymitch had gone back to Twelve while she remained in the Capitol for her treatments. Effie was scheduled to be released today.

She had not expected a visit from Haymitch. She hadn't heard from him ever since they parted ways.

"How are you?" he asked

She folded and unfolded the dress in her hands, keeping them busy and occupied.

"I'm good. Thank you for asking. I'm healing well."

"That's uh... good to know."

The uncomfortable silence grew between them.

"Are you really here to visit me?" she asked him curiously.

"No – Yes, I mean no. No, I'm actually – Will you come with me, please?"

"I can't leave this room unescorted by a nurse. If you could just call her, we can go where... where are we going?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I should be clearer. Plutarch says that you'll be living in a public apartment build by the government? When you're released from here, I mean."

"Yes. It's a temporary arrangement until I can get my footing again. Get a job, you know?"

"I have plenty of room in Victors' Village... You know, if you don't mind. I spoke to Plutarch and he said it's fine if you would like to ... stay with me."

Effie was stunned and she couldn't formulate any words to respond to his offer. She looked down on her hands. She felt overwhelmed all of a sudden and the teardrop that fell on the palm of her hands was beyond her control.

Haymitch shifted beside her.

"It's okay if you don't want, though. I understand – I won't take it personally." When she didn't respond, he continued, "I supposed it would be difficult to stay with me after what you had to go through because of me. Katniss said I shouldn't ask but I... gotta try, you know?"

She nodded.

"How are the kids?"

"Good. They're okay, they have each other. They'll make it."

"And you?" she asked him softly.

He lifted a shoulder in response.

"Drunk," he smiled at her.

"You're not taking care of yourself," she noted her eyes swept over his haphazard appearance.

"Nobody around to care about how I look."

The air shifted around them and Effie noted how Haymitch squared his shoulders as though he was preparing himself to get through an obstacle.

"I need you," he said, his voice steady. "That's why I came. I need you, Effie. I don't know what I'm doing. Everything and everyone is changing around me. We've won and I'm still the same. I still woke up drunk, my house is a mess and I'm wasted half the time. My life is still..."

He paused and the break in his speech made Effie look up. "I think you might need me, too," he said softly, "What you did for me, I –"

"Yes. I'll come with you. I'll stay with you."

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself and Effie realised that she meant it. It had always been her and Haymitch all these years. She had grown to care for him first as a friend and the feelings had grown. She had taken the fall for him and Effie knew the guilt still roiled in his blood. Maybe this was his way to return her favour, offer her something when she had nothing left.

Effie launched herself at him and sobbed in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Cocooned in the safety of his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, she finally had the courage to admit that perhaps she had done it because she had loved him all these while.

* * *

**A/N: I think there are several fics out there touching on the same theme but I've had this idea for quite a while and I just wanted to see how I could have written it. Well, my only hope is that you all like it.**

**Please leave a review to tell me your opinion, they are much love. :) Oh, I was also thinking of doing this in Haymitch's POV but I'm not sure if any of you would be interested in reading it?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! First off, thank you so much for all your reviews & favourites. I noted that some of you seemed interested to read this story in Haymitch's POV, so I've written it. Sorry that it took quite a while (I spent a week on this) and I enjoyed every single minute writing this in his POV.**

**Just a note, this story runs concurrently with the events in Chapter 1 only I have a little extra scene at the ending! Having said that, hope you enjoy reading this :)**

**Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Maybe except Julius Hoffman & he's such a minor one at that.**

* * *

Haymitch - Part I

The sitting room was dark; the only light source came from the muted television showing an encore telecast of the Reaping for what seemed to be the second time that night. Haymitch sat slumped on the leather sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him, working his way steadily through the contents of his whiskey bottle.

Effie wasn't in her room nor was she anywhere in the Penthouse. He knew that because he had searched for her, wanting to talk to her about what he did during the Reaping. He wasn't sorry that he had mocked the Capitol but he knew Effie had not appreciated him giving her a sloppy hug and messing with her wig. The surprised woman had stiffened in his arm before clearing her throat and proceeded with the Reaping as if nothing was amiss.

The television screen was showing images of the Reaping from District 7 but he wasn't paying it any attention. At that moment, he was just staring blankly at the wall – his mind clearly preoccupied with something else.

Something had been nagging at him. It made him feel queasy and unsettled but he couldn't exactly pinpoint the precise cause of it. All he knew was that whatever it was had something to do with the exuberant Capitol escort whose bright clothes burnt his retinas each time he set his eyes on her. The Capitol escort whose whereabouts were currently unknown, worrying him slightly. She had been disappearing far more often the past few years and each time she returned to the Penthouse, she would lock herself in her room only appearing when she had to usher her Tributes somewhere.

The lights flooded the room and Haymitch eyes squinted against the sudden intrusion of light. He turned around and saw her slipping into the Penthouse, unaware of his presence. He noted the little details that didn't quite sit right with her – the way she gripped her purse, turning her knuckles white, the clasp at the back of her skirt was unhooked and it only held up because she had zipped it and her wig looked like she had placed it on top of her head without paying it much attention. In other words, Haymitch's brain registered that wherever she came from, she had dressed in a hurry before making her way back again.

He sneered. _A party,_ Haymitch thought, his mind already forming assumptions. _And then, the princess probably had a man to bring her home. Knowing her, she would ask for a favour or two for the Games. What else would these pampered Capitol citizens do – they don't have to work in the coal mines or – _

"Had a good time, sweetheart? Partying with your friends? Celebrating District Twelve's first volunteer?" he asked, interrupting his own thoughts before Effie could slip past him silently.

He knew he didn't have to be so harsh but there was just something about the way she looked tonight that irked and provoked him. Effie was here standing in front of him – the easiest person to lash out at.

"You're drunk, Haymitch. You don't know what you're talking about."

He bristled at her assumption even though he had made assumptions on his own just moments ago. As if to prove some kind of point, he made his way towards her, trying to walk as steadily as he could.

Her make-up was smudged which was odd because she had always been impeccable in her dressing. He was intrigued, never having seen her like this before. Well, he had once, two years ago. But that was a glimpse and Effie had already disappeared into her assigned room before he could take a good look at her. His eyes narrowed a fraction. Those were tear tracks on her cheeks and a bruise at the corner of her lips. A bruise that had only just begun to form.

He raised his hand. Before he could process what he was doing, his hand had caressed her cheeks and his thumb had wiped her tear stained cheek. Her powder came off with it and stuck to his thumb, revealing a fraction of Effie Trinket's pale skin underneath the layer of powder.

"Don't touch me."

He blinked in surprise and retracted his hand, having just realised what he was doing. Haymitch stared at her and he could feel the initial anger he had earlier stir inside of him. Was it necessary for her to snap at him that way when he only wanted to – what was he doing anyway? Had he gone soft?

When Haymitch was hurt, he reacted in the only way he knew how, which was to hurt the person as equally as he had been hurt.

"You smell of cigarette and sex."

She tore her gaze away and he felt triumphant for a moment. That feeling pressed him onwards and he leaned towards her because he wasn't done yet.

"Did you let him touch you or were you as snappy with him as you were with me? He wouldn't have like that. I suppose that would explain the bruise on the corner of your lips."

"Don't ever speak to me like that ever again, Mr. Abernathy. You don't know half the things you claim you know."

He hated it when she called him so formally that way. His father was Mr. Abernathy and as far as Haymitch was concerned he had not lived up to be half the man his father was. Calling him Mr. Abernathy only reminded him of the failure he was.

"My name's Haymitch, and you had better use it, sweetheart."

XxX

He watched her as she moved about the Penthouse and as she sat with her back straight and her legs crossed daintily at the ankles watching the Games. Haymitch continued observing her throughout the day. She was at that moment sitting on the dining table head bent down, absent-mindedly tapping her pen against the table, studying whatever it was on her clipboard.

She had held her ground that night when he had lashed out on her and he was impressed. All the years they spent together, Effie had learnt to back off when he was in one of his moods but she had never before stood her ground like she did that night.

Haymitch studied her. Had she always been this tense? He searched his memories of her and only then did he realise that the extremely chipper and bubbly human that she was had slowly sobered until she had become who she was now before him.

He wondered if she had finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses and saw the Games for the loss of lives that they were. Most importantly, he wondered when exactly Effie experienced that epiphany.

Little did he know that Effie was watching him too, but for a completely different reason – to make sure that he wouldn't do anything that would get _her _in trouble.

When Haymitch closed the deal for their first sponsor, he had expected Effie to be ecstatic. Perhaps, a smile on her face as she congratulated him for a job well done, for doing his job for a change. She looked distracted and her rambling flew past by his head.

Something was wrong with her. He knew it.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, lowering his voice as he spoke.

A pause as her eyes darted about the room. _She's afraid,_ Haymitch realised.

"Nothing."

Well, what was he expecting – a confession of Effie Trinket's innermost fears and darkest secrets in the middle of the Games Headquarters?

He didn't believe her, not for a second. He had learned to read the signs and tell when someone was lying to him and that was exactly what Effie had done – lie to him.

He heard Chaff calling out for him and he turned to face the intoxicated large man waving at him. Turning briefly towards her, he hesitated. Haymitch hated not knowing and loathe as he was to admit it, the questions he had surrounding Effie was keeping him awake at night. He needed Effie back but she seemed so... distant. She wasn't there and if only it was easy as shaking her shoulders roughly and snapping her out of her reverie.

No, now was not the time to solve this mystery. He had tributes to look after in the arena. He had someone depending on him and for once, he didn't want to fail. Haymitch had forgotten what it was like to be needed.

"Go on then, wait by the screen. Our first sponsor in a long while, you wouldn't wanna miss that, sweetheart."

XxX

Haymitch's fingers curled around the edges of a cushion, lying on his side as he watched Katniss and Peeta with the nightlock berries in the palm of their hands. Effie sat tensed beside him and the moment the announcement was made, she jumped to her feet, fist pumping the air in a victory celebration.

He grinned at her uncharacteristic behaviour. Her first victory and he couldn't help smiling at the look on her face. Her smile was pure and genuine – her eyes lighting up. Haymitch liked how human she looked now. And then her face changed, her mask slipped. Her hands fell by her side and she stared unblinkingly at the screen. Haymitch saw her sag before his very eyes and he needed to get her away from the sitting room before Portia or any of the prep team realised that something was wrong. Cinna was already watching her curiously but Cinna had never been an issue.

He took her by the elbow and led her to his room. She didn't protest and the look on her face told Haymitch everything he needed to know – her expression spoke volumes. _She knows – she instinctively seems to know that any sign of defiance to the Capitol could bring trouble._

"Speak."

She shook her head and glanced around the room. Effie had been in his room too many times before for him to pass it off as her being curious about the state of his room. She was looking for something. _Smart move, Trinket._

"The bug's there. They won't be able to make out the words. Just muffled voices," he told her softly, trying to coax her to speak.

Still, despite the reassurance that they won't be heard, she kept adamantly quiet. It was up to him to offer something to make her realise that she could talk to him. He wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, but there was something about this woman that made his protectiveness surge to the surface. He needed to know what was wrong with her – that was all he promised himself. He just needed that peace of mind knowing that everything was alright with Effie. That the recent years when he noticed that she hasn't been herself was because she was still stuck in Twelve with no career advancement, or she was denied a pay raise preventing her from spending money buying extravagant clothes - normal everyday problems for a typical Capitol citizen. He knew he was deluding himself. Somebody who didn't get a pay raise wouldn't look as scared as a trapped animal half the time.

"You know they're in trouble," he stated and waited for her reaction.

He was afforded with a nod. That was a start.

"I saw your face change when you realized what they've done. You're a pretty damn good actress, Trinket. But when you think no one's looking, your mask slips and I see someone else. I know - your mask slipped on several occasions with me around. You thought I was too drunk to notice."

He was rewarded with a much more satisfactory reaction with that speech he just made. She buried her face in his hands and he had to strain his ears to make out her mumbled words.

"What do you see?"

He shrugged and leaned on his palms. If there was one thing about himself that Haymitch was proud of, it was that he always strived to tell the truth when the situation called for it and this was one of those times.

"Someone vulnerable, someone human. You're scared half the time. Your eyes looked manic. It's the same look in a tribute's eyes when they realized that there's no way out."

"You're very observant."

"It's easier to watch people when they pass you off for a drunk. Like you."

"Why are you watching me?"

There it was again – the panic, the fear. What was it with that woman? He decided not to press her anymore. There was no need to rile her up any further. He smiled and tried to reassert the status quo. He doesn't want her to think that he cared for her.

"You're the only one who's always around for me to look at." That wasn't a lie, she was always around unless of course he counted those moments when she disappeared for hours on end without informing him.

"Be careful, sweetheart. Keep that mask on - things are going to be a lot more difficult now."

He watched her warily and curiously when she moved to stand in front of him. His feet stayed rooted to the floor when he felt her lips brush softly against his cheeks. Then she was gone, but her scent lingered and Haymitch breathed it in. _Strawberry, vanilla and something undeniably female._

XxX

He staggered into the Penthouse, and for once he was exceedingly grateful for the Peacekeepers stationed outside the entrance of the Training Centre. It was the Third Quarter Quell and he was the only living Victor from a previous Quell, which meant that he had spent most of his time since he reached the Capitol evading the press.

The door opened behind him again and an Avox walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers in her arms. Haymitch frowned and approached the Avox, who stopped in her tracks. He relieved the Avox of the flowers, his curiosity getting the better of him. The card on the flower said it came from some guy named Julius Hoffman. _Do I know any Julius Hoffman? A sponsor?_

He stopped by the bar cart and grabbed a bottle of wine before heading to Effie's room to deliver her those flowers. He would have given it back to the Avox for her to deliver it to Effie but the Avox was gone.

The name Julius Hoffman still had not rang any bells when he reached Effie's bedroom. The door was opened and he stepped in. He stopped short and stared at the image of Effie on the mirror. _She looks like a doll_, he thought disgustedly to himself. The powder covering her pale skin was thicker, the eye shadows were of a brighter shade than normal and her lipstick was bright red. In his eyes, she looked exactly like one of those Capitol women Haymitch had picked up from the bar during his early years as a mentor. He clenched his jaws at the sight of her.

"Going somewhere?"

He knew what was coming. She would leave the Penthouse, disappear for hours and when she came back, she would disappear into her room until the next agenda on her schedule pulled her out. That wasn't even the worse of it. The look on her eyes each time she came back was what usually unhinged him. They were lost and helpless, and Haymitch could almost hear her silent plea for help whenever she accidentally looked him in the eye.

To this day, he still couldn't understand the stirring in his chest and the overwhelming need to help her each time she came back looking like a shadow of her former self. He wanted to pull her out of the abyss that she had lost herself into but he couldn't help her, not if he didn't know what her main problem was. And why should he help her? Was it his duty to care for her?

Yes, he should care about Effie Trinket, if only to return the favour over the countless times she had taken care of him when he was too drunk to tell right from left.

They were exchanging barbed words now and the bottled-up comment he had about her eyes had nearly slipped out. There was no need to tell her what he thought about her eyes and how it affected him.

"For someone who doesn't care, you notice a lot of things about me," she had hissed at him. Then she was gone - sidestepped him and left the room.

But he did care and he whispered it to the shadows, only she was already gone.

"Wrong again, sweetheart."

XxX

The moment Katniss' arrow made a chink in the force field, Haymitch sprung into action. Effie remained seated on the sofa, her eyes glued to the screen, her posture rigid.

"Get moving, Trinket!" he shouted before running into his room to gather the papers. When he came out again, he saw her in the exact same position.

He gave her a sidelong glance as he strode towards the fireplace, throwing Rebel plans on scraps of paper in the fire. The scraps of paper would not have made any sense if someone were to pick it up and attempt to read it, but Haymitch wasn't taking any chances.

He turned and spoke over his shoulder, "Get your things, Effie. I told you to pack yesterday. Get your things, hurry."

There was still no movement. Her sense of urgency had decided to abandon her on that day of all days. When she wilfully refused to get her things as he instructed her to, he lost his patience. With two quick strides, he was standing in front of her again, shaking her roughly as he pulled her up from the sofa.

When she spoke next, his breath caught in his throat.

"No, Haymitch. You go. You're needed at Thirteen. I'll stay here. I can do a lot from here. Lead them away from you... False information..."

_No, _he shook his head angrily. _No, she can't do this to herself. Since when has she been so selfless?_ _Or has she always been that way, only I was too blind to notice?_

She didn't seem to understand it. He had to bring her along, or President Snow would get to her. She would be tortured for information and he could not even imagine that woman in a prison cell. They would break her and tear her apart until there was nothing left for them to take.

"You'll die," his voice was urgent, pleading for her to understand him.

"That was a risk we all took when we agreed to this, Haymitch."

Her hand was on his cheek now. Effie had never touched him unless it was to help him to his room, or to clean him up when he vomited from all the alcohol he had drunk. She had very soft hands, her smooth palm laid flat against his cheek. The feeling was so foreign to him that he briefly closed his eyes to savour the moment.

When he opened them again, Effie's blue eyes were trained on him. He didn't miss the grim determination flashing in her eyes but he had to try one last time. As they stood facing each other in a battle of wills on who would back down first, Haymitch realised just how human Effie was beneath the Capitol doll-like image she projected for Panem.

He would never have believed that there was anything else to the layers of make-up and gaudy Capitol clothing she wore when he had first known her but over time, as he watched the life seep away from her eyes, he began to pay more attention. He noticed the chink in her armour, the slow erosion of her Capitol personality when she thought she was alone. The only thing he couldn't figure out was the 'why'. Nobody changes without a reason; something must have happened to her.

"This is stupid. This is self-sacrifice. Come along, now," he tugged her hand, and swallowed dryly.

"It has been self-sacrifice for so long now."

He frowned, trying to comprehend what she meant. He opened his mouth to ask her but she was pushing him towards the door of the Penthouse.

"You're wasting time, Haymitch. Go now."

He resisted. The sheer desperation he felt, the fear of leaving her behind and not knowing if she would survive imprisonment was crippling him. He had no time to analyse his behaviour - to question why he desperately needed Effie to come with him, to see her safe as they made their move against the Capitol.

_It's because we've worked together for so long, _he tried to rationalise it.

He remembered her talking to Finnick, remembered the times Finnick talked about her and the numerous occasions Finnick had rebuked him for always being so hard on Effie. He wasn't blind; he could see the friendship between those two. Haymitch was grasping at straws and a white lie now wouldn't hurt. Not if it meant she would be safe.

"I promised. I promised Finnick that I'll bring you along."

He hadn't, of course. He never made promises to anyone.

The mention of Finnick's name seemed to break something in her. She cried, the tears slipping down her cheeks. Still, she didn't relent and Haymitch knew that she was a lost cause. She had always been stubborn and nothing he said now would change her mind.

"Stay alive for me, Haymitch."

There it was again, the stirring in his heart. The pressure on his chest, and oddly enough, a warm feeling spreading through him. Somebody wanted him to live.

He moved forward towards her and held her face between his hands. If he couldn't bring her with him, he would try his damned best to get her out. He wasn't sure how that would be possible but his conviction remained strong.

And for the first time, in a long while, he made a promise to a person other than himself. "I'll come for you. Just... Don't give up, stay strong."

Then she laughed, nervously but she laughed nonetheless. That small petite woman in front of him was trying to be brave and fight for a cause that would destroy her home and ironically, just as he was about to lose her, he realised how much he would miss her.

He had nothing left to lose. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the thought that this could be the last time he would ever see her so he didn't give it much thought as he dipped his head and brushed his lips against her.

The kiss was soft and he was hesitant, gauging her reaction. He expected to be shoved and slapped so when she kissed him back, he was genuinely surprised. Effie was nothing like he had ever imagined and his sense went on overdrive. The only thought that crossed his mind was a storm. She was everything mixed into one. Effie was life, smile and tears, years of anger and frustration. She was bitter and sweet and pain, a definite thorn in his side.

When he pulled away and looked at her, her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted slightly. Her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath. When she opened her eyes, Haymitch knew it was time to go. He couldn't look at her any longer or he would be tempted to stay, Rebellion be damned.

He gave her one last look and bolted out of the Penthouse towards the rooftop where the hovercraft would be.

During the entire ride to District 13, the kiss played over and over again in his head. Even with the alcohol, he swore he could feel her lips on his, the way she parted them to let their tongues run against each other.

XxX

Days turned to weeks, and Haymitch began to despair. Nothing sat well with him – the pillow was too soft, his bed was too warm, the timetable around his wrist was too restrictive, the lack of alcohol was making his body feel physically ill, Plutarch was too loud and jovial for someone in the middle of a war, and Katniss seemed to be beyond his control. He hated it in District Thirteen.

He hated how it felt like to be surrounded by all these soldiers, all these refugees and yet so alone. Not for the first time, he wished Effie was there with her clipboard in her hands mumbling about her schedule. Effie wasn't the best company but she had always been there by his side, always taken for granted and was sorely missed now that she was gone.

_No, not gone. Her fate's just unknown._

Missing. Unlocated. Untraced. It was all better than dead.

A delirious Johanna Mason uttered her name as the nurses strapped her to the hospital bed. Haymitch happened to be in the same room, hovering over Katniss who had just been attacked by Peeta when he heard her say Effie's name. It caught his attention because Johanna Mason would not have any reason to be mumbling that escort's name.

He was by Johanna's side within seconds, gripping the woman by her shoulder and demanding answers.

"You said Effie. Effie Trinket. Where she is? Have you seen her? Mason, come on – come on, is she alive?"

Plutarch was pulling him back, trying to drag him away from the weak injured Victor but Haymitch fought him.

"Johanna! Is she alive?" he screamed as more soldiers dragged him away.

He caught her eyes and the brief nod of her head. Haymitch leaned heavily against the wall, pulling his arm free from a soldier's grip.

"She's alive," he said out loud, testing the words and trying to wrap his head around the news.

"Who? Trinket?"

He nodded, too exhausted to talk. The energy seemed to have left him after the struggle in the hospital room.

"We gotta get her out, Plutarch. I promised her. We got to – "

"Coin would never allow it. Going back to the Capitol just to rescue a Capitol escort? Effie means nothing to Coin or her cause, she won't agree. A Capitol citizen working for the Games – she's worthless to Alma Coin."

"She means something to me," he shouted at Plutarch, his chest heaving from the sheer anger he felt.

Plutarch grinned despite the seriousness of the situation and looked at Haymitch.

"Are you in love with her?"

That question took him by surprise that his head snapped to look at Plutarch. The anger dissipated to be replaced by confusion and an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest – Plutarch was probing into things that should have just been left alone.

"What?"

XxX

This was war and his needs did not triumph over the cause. He had done everything he could – which mostly involved him shouting at Coin and trying to get her to see reason. He didn't need a rescue team, he'd go to the Capitol alone and he would bring Effie back.

He was denied at every turn. Katniss needed him and so, he had been ordered to stay by her side – the only reason why he was still alive, he presumed. After all the trouble he had caused Coin, he wouldn't be surprised if Coin had wanted to kill him if not for her precious Mockingjay.

"I've seen you more alive fighting for Effie Trinket than I've ever seen you even before the Rebellion started," Plutarch had commented dryly to him one day.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what I said. Think about it, will you?"

He thought about it and he thought about it for days when he couldn't sleep at night. But what Plutarch said had not made any sense to him and he dismissed it as unimportant.

He was there when the Rebels stormed the Capitol, and he felt the heat from the blast sear his skin even before he realised what was happening. In the confusion that followed, nobody paid him any attention and he slipped out of the hovercraft without much problem.

Johanna Mason had told him in great detail the place where the Victors were held captive as she sat beside Haymitch in District Thirteen's command centre, talking angrily about Snow. Katniss and the squad had just been sent to the Capitol for more propos leading up to the assassination.

He found out that two days after Johanna Mason was captured, Effie Trinket became her cell mate and the only reason Effie wasn't rescued the day the rescue team was sent to the Capitol for the victors was because she had been dragged out of their cell a day before to be interrogated. Pure bad luck, if ever there was any.

The thick black smoke that had descended down the Capitol was making it difficult for him to breathe or see for that matter but he pushed on. He needed to get to Effie and that need drove him forward.

XxX

The Capitol was in complete chaos and destruction. Citizens were running amok in the streets, Peacekeepers were attempting to bring order and fight off Rebels at the same time.

Capitol guards and Peacekeepers alike were trying to get out of the prison as multiple blasts shook the earth. Haymitch was going against the flow of human traffic as he pressed on towards Effie.

The corridor was dark and he held his torchlight up above his head to light his way, checking each cell. He grew more desperate at each empty cell, at each dead body he came across in the prison.

There was a body lying prone on the ground of that cell he was currently in. The blouse was torn and dirty but it had once been a shade of green. The same shade of green Effie wore the day he left her at the Penthouse.

The light from his torch slowly travelled up the figure from the legs and finally to the swollen, blood covered face. _Effie._ He recognised her and something spurred him to action. He rushed forward, kneeling in front of her, mumbling incoherent sentences, begging and pleading for her to be alive.

"Oh, no, no, no," his hand was shaking as his fingers reached out for her neck, trying to feel for a pulse. "Please be alive. Effie, please."

He tried to be gentle, tried not to hurt her any more than was absolutely necessary. There were cuts and bruises all over her. And blood was everywhere – dry blood on the floor, fresh blood seeping from newly inflicted wounds on her body.

Her eyes fluttered opened and he heaved an immense sigh of relief. In a singular uncharacteristic gesture, he rested his forehead against hers, and whispered hoarsely, "I'll get you out, just like I promised. I need you to stay strong, for a little while longer."

* * *

**To be continued...**

**A/N: Haymitch's POV turned out to be extremely long that I decided to make it into two parts which will be uploaded later on today. Please do leave a review and let me know your take on this :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**As promised, here is Part II in Haymitch's POV. :)**

* * *

Chapter 3

Haymitch: Part II

Effie was deadweight in his arms as he ran, ducked and weaved amongst the panicking people running in all directions. His hands were numb, he was exhausted and severely out of breath.

Haymitch's knees gave way and he collapsed in an empty alley way with half-destroyed buildings. The place was once crawling with Capitol citizens and it was lit up brightly with neon lights – the Capitol's pubs were located in this area.

He cradled Effie's head and patted her cheeks. "Effie, Effie, please. Please, sweetheart, wake up. You gotta to – please don't do this."

Her head lolled to the side and Haymitch looked around helplessly, looking for help. Rebel soldiers ran past the alley before he could even shout for their help.

_Snow's mansion. _That was where he had to bring her. That had been the plan told to him by Plutarch before he deviated and went in search of Effie.

The woman in his arms was slowly dying. She was rasping and wheezing for breath. Haymitch feared that each breath she drew would be her last and that debilitating thought spurred him towards Snow's mansion.

If anyone were to ask him how he managed to get to the mansion, he wouldn't have been able to answer. He had no idea how he got there except that he knew he needed to get there fast.

She was taken away from him to be medically treated. He fought to be by her side before he felt the prick of a needle and the world darkened around him.

XxX

Haymitch thought that years of watching his Tributes die had desensitized him to any news of death, but when he was informed of Finnick's and Prim's death, he had nodded his head in silent acknowledgement and sat by Effie's bedside, his heart hurting and growing numb by the hour.

His only consolation was that Effie was alive. She was conscious and lucid, although she had to take long naps to regain her energy. She was sleeping now.

When the door opened and footsteps approached him, he didn't react until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Haymitch," Plutarch called him out.

He sat up straight in the chair immediately, steeling himself. Plutarch's voice sounded grave - he had more bad news to deliver.

"There is something you need to see," he informed Haymitch before handing over a worn out file with a Capitol seal on its front cover. He nodded absent-mindedly and listened to Plutarch's retreating footsteps.

Glancing down on the file in his hands, he noted Effie's name and without thinking much, he flipped it open and his world split.

Bound within the file were pages upon pages of unimaginable horror and still he forced himself to read through it. His answers, the ones he was looking for. The answers to all the questions he had about Effie all these years.

He had wondered about the chink in her armour, the vulnerability on her face when her mask slipped, and the reason why she changed. This was the reason right here in his hand – he was the reason. _Forced prostitution._Snow had put her on the market just like Finnick and the other desirable Victors.

He had asked himself where the light in her eyes disappeared to and he realised now that she should have been dead a long time ago. Yet here she was still fighting for her life. Effie was far stronger than he gave her credit for.

As he stared at the file in his hand, he finally broke down and cried after so many years. The words printed on paper swam before his eyes, burnt and etched in his mind. _Misconduct by mentor of District 12. Haymitch Abernathy._

He remembered the words he spat at her that day in the Penthouse. "_You smell of cigarette and sex." _He buried his face in his hand, the tears seeping through his fingers.

The rage bubbling inside of him magnified and a huge weight of guilt settled on his chest. Another name added to the list of people he felt guilty about.

XxX

Haymitch sat slumped in the crammed arm chair by Effie's bed side staring blankly at her unconscious form when she began to stir, her file still gripped tightly in his hand. He started and considered leaving the room. How was he supposed to face her when he had been the reason she was auctioned off, the reason why she had to grit her teeth and swallow her scream as a man lie on top of her all these years?

He stayed his feet and remained her room. The least he could do was face her and let her hate him and scream at him. She did neither. She merely looked at him, a small sad smile on her face. It would have been less painful if someone were to drive a knife in his heart and twist it. How could she still look at him?

She had been awake for less than three days before they started fighting, before he confronted her about the contents of the file.

"You could have told me, Effie! I would have –"

"You would have what? What would you have done, Haymitch?"

As fair as the question was, it didn't make him any less angry that she kept it from him. He had never once shown that he cared, Effie had no reason to tell him and expect any less. What would he have done if Effie had told him the moment it started?

"I don't know. But I would have done something, anything. Wouldn't drink so much, I would have kept my mouth shut. I wouldn't have taunted them. I would..."

He trailed off and sank into the armchair next to her bed. He hung his head, defeated. What could he have done? What could he say to her?

Haymitch sat on the edge of his seat and took her hands between his. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Effie."

"You saved me. It's enough, we're even."

He stared at her in disbelief. It couldn't be that simple. His mistakes could not be atoned for in such a manner. He shook his head but she was quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders and press his cheeks to her breast, patting his head awkwardly.

"It's okay, Haymitch. It's okay, I'm not... I don't hate you. I've never hated you. I was angry with you, sometimes I wished you could just shut up but it's not you, is it? They've never owned you - you had no one left they could threaten. How were you supposed to know that they would use me?"

"You could have told me," he repeated himself.

"I never meant for you to know. They were going to kill you. I ... I did it to keep you alive. If they had gone straight to you and threaten you, there's nothing to hold you back – you would have retaliated and... They would have killed you, Haymitch."

"Why? You hated me," he pushed himself back to a sitting position but maintained his hold on her hand.

"Pay attention, Haymitch. I said I never hated you."

He was confused. Was Effie always this arcane and unfathomable? She had never hated him? She should hate him now more than ever for all that had happened to her.

"I just wanted to see you safe."

That sentence sounded odd in Haymitch's ear. His safety had not been anyone's concern since the only people he cared about were murdered long ago. Over the years, he had learned to live with the knowledge that nobody would bat an eyelash if he was one day found dead in his house from alcohol intoxication. He had accepted the bitter truth that he was alone.

Haymitch wanted nothing more than to clarify the confusion surrounding him but Effie looked exhausted. Shooting her a dubious look, he rose from the chair.

"You're a good actor, Trinket – you're good at hiding things. I won't press it. Rest now."

He kissed her forehead and left the room. He needed to think and come to terms with what just happened.

XxX

A full year went by without any contact with Effie. It was unusual. When Reaping Day came around, there was no knock on his door, no meddlesome woman dragging him out of his bed by the collar demanding he clean himself up for the Reaping.

People gathered at the town square on Reaping Day not because they had to watch two District Twelve children be called on stage but because for the first time, they were free. They were remembering all the tributes that had died, the sacrifices and the victims claimed by the Capitol. Haymitch watched from a distance and if he squinted, he could almost pretend that Effie was walking down the dirt pathway in her high heels looking terribly out of place in District Twelve for the Reaping. He blinked. The image disappeared.

Peeta had taken Katniss to the meadow that day. The girl Haymitch knew had slowly started to return although there were still days when she stopped responding to anyone and sat in a corner, rocking back and forth muttering Primrose's name. They had each other, and Haymitch was confident that both Katniss and Peeta would make it through and heal with the other's support.

It was clear to him that day that everyone around him was slowly but surely picking up the pieces of their lives and building new ones for themselves. He was the only one still left behind. Nothing had changed for him.

He was still a reclusive drunk who could barely function. He was dead, he wasn't living his life. He had fought against the Capitol since he was sixteen and now that there was nothing to fight, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with himself. He had too much guilt to allow himself to live properly.

To say that he envied these people would be an understatement. He wondered what it was like to be content. Was that too much to ask for? He wasn't even asking for happiness. He just wanted to be content with his life.

He needed forgiveness and he needed to be absolved of his guilt. The only one left alive that he could seek any form of atonement for his mistakes was Effie. She was it. She held it all in the palm of her hands.

Effie had the ability to fix things when they inevitably fell apart. It was part of her job as an Escort. When things did not follow the schedule given, she would have a panic attack, get herself together and fix the situation.

_I need to go to her. She could fix me._

XxX

Wiping his hands on his pants, Haymitch knocked on the door and waited for her invitation nervously. He glanced around the corridor where the walls were painted sky blue with motivational posters pasted on them. The whole floor was for patients receiving long term psychiatric treatment.

"Come in," he heard her voice through the door.

"Oh, it's – Hello, Haymitch. It's been awhile."

There had been a speech he had prepared in his head as he sat in the train on the way to the Capitol. The plan had been simple – visit her, extend the invitation to live with him in District Twelve and wait for her reply. She could either reject his invitation or accept it.

Truth be told, he had spent days debating if it was a wise move to even ask her to move to Twelve with him. He had been worried about her reaction and her answer that he had not given it a moment's thought at the possibility of what came after. Well, if she rejected it then there was nothing to think about. If she said yes, however, then Haymitch decided he would cross the bridge when he came to it.

The speech he had mentally prepared in his head dissipated now that she was in front of him. He settled for the next best thing, "How are you?"

They were not very good with small talk but this time, it was Effie who went straight to the point.

"Are you really here to visit me?"

He looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. How does one do this – invite someone he could barely tolerate for years to stay with him?

"No – Yes, I mean no," He was doing it all wrong and Effie was giving him an amused look. "No, I'm actually – Will you come with me, please?" he blurted out. Still, the question didn't come out quite right. He had not exactly specifically told her to come with him back to Twelve.

"I can't leave this room unescorted by a nurse. If you could just call her, we can go where... where are we going?"

He sighed. He had never been articulate with words.

"I should be clearer. Plutarch says that you'll be living in a public apartment build by the government? When you're released from here, I mean."

"Yes. It's a temporary arrangement until I can get my footing again. Get a job, you know?"

"I have plenty of room in Victors' Village... You know, if you don't mind. I spoke to Plutarch and he said it's fine if you would like to ... stay with me."

He observed her for any reaction. She was looking down on her hands and he watched, mesmerised by the tear drop on her palm.

It must have been a bad move on his part if she was sitting beside him crying so he felt the need to explain himself.

"It's okay if you don't want, though. I understand – I won't take it personally." When she didn't respond, he continued, "I supposed it would be difficult to stay with me after what you had to go through because of me. Katniss said I shouldn't ask but I... gotta try, you know?"

"How are the kids?" she asked instead.

_A change of topic. _That was it then, the rejection. He took a deep breath to try and get rid of the strange aching in his chest.

"Good. They're okay, they have each other. They'll make it."

"And you?" she asked him softly.

He lifted a shoulder in response.

"Drunk," he smiled at her, amused at how she was trying to make small talk now. It was a good thing, he supposed. At least she hadn't screamed at him for his audacity to waltz in after a year and ask her to return with him to Twelve.

"You're not taking care of yourself," she noted her eyes sweep over his haphazard appearance.

"Nobody around to care about how I look," he answered truthfully.

She looked at him and after a moment, her lips quivered in a smile. That was the moment Haymitch decided that he could not leave Capitol without her. He hadn't even tried hard enough. He straightened and squared his shoulders.

"I need you. That's why I came. I need you, Effie. I don't know what I'm doing. Everything and everyone is changing around me. We've won and I'm still the same. I still wake up drunk, my house is a mess and I'm wasted half the time. My life is still..."

He paused and exhaled.

"I think you might need me, too," he said softly, "What you did for me, I –"

"Yes. I'll come with you. I'll stay with you."

_What?_ He did a double take to look at her. The next thing he knew, she had thrown herself at him and was sobbing on his chest. Haymitch did the only thing he knew in that situation. He wrapped his hands around her and held her as she cried.

Haymitch kept quiet, unsure as to the real reason behind her tears. He stroked her soft blonde hair, trying his best to soothe her. Without her heels, she fit perfectly under his chin.

When she finally step back and entangle herself from him, she smiled shyly up at him. "I can leave this place at any time."

"Good. Our train leaves in an hour," he patted his breast pocket and showed her the train tickets.

She laughed lightly and shook her head. "You were confident that I was coming?"

"No, bought it just in case," he replied and moved to get her duffel bag.

XxX

They skirted around each other, tip toed in each other's presence for months. Effie had been living with him in Twelve for nearly four months and he still felt odd to have a woman in his house.

When the Games were in session, he only had to tolerate her presence for a few weeks before going back to his life of solitude. But now, this arrangement was more long-term in nature and Haymitch had no idea what he was doing.

Effie still flinched out of shock at times when he unexpectedly and accidentally brushed against her. She still stiffened when he stood too close to her. It made Haymitch uncomfortable. He was unsure on how he was supposed to behave with and around her.

There had been occasions when he had considered treating her the way he had always treated her during the Games but that was the past. He had risked his life to rescue her and one did not simply go back to how things were after such drastic events.

The whiskey felt good as he took a sip of it and sank into the chair at the kitchen island, exhausted from fixing the pen for his geese. Effie had been complaining about how his geese should be kept in a pen instead of being allowed to roam about freely in his back yard.

The chair beside him scraped against the floor and Effie sat quietly beside him with a plate of freshly cut fruits in front of her. She pushed the plate over to Haymitch for them to share and without looking at her, took a slice of orange from the plate.

"Haymitch?" her voice was soft.

"Yeah?"

"I ... Uh, do you want... I don't know how to say this," Effie gave a nervous laugh. Haymitch glanced briefly towards her before focusing his attention back to the whiskey bottle in his hand in front of him.

"What is it, sweetheart? Just say it."

"Okay," she replied him. He heard her inhale.

"Do you want me to leave, Haymitch?"

He froze. Slowly, he turned to face her. His gaze bore holes into her and she fidgeted in her seat, biting her lips nervously.

"What?"

"I said, do –"

"I know what you said. What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you want me to go? I could go back –"

"Do you want to?" he snapped at her. He was irritated and confused. All these while, he was under the impression that she wanted to stay with him. She was supposed to... What was she supposed to do? Oh, fix him. But how could she when she was as tragically broken as he was?

He just needed someone. It was enough - spending two decades alone had taken its toll on him. He needed companionship and she wanted to leave?

"N-no," she stuttered. "Please, don't take this wrongly, Haymitch."

How was he supposed to take it? Women were complicated creatures and there was always some other meaning behind the words they said. Was he supposed to figure that all on his own?

His fingers scratched and peeled off the label of the whiskey bottle. He couldn't look at her right and he needed something to distract him.

"Haymitch," she called out his name softly and laid her hand on his arm before hastily retracting it again. Effie didn't like to be touched and she hardly initiated contact. "Please, it's just, you haven't been yourself. You treat me like I'm something fragile, I don't need that. I need you to be you. You act like you're in someone else's skin."

He paused in his actions. His fingers halted the mutilation he was doing to the whiskey label. Haymitch cocked his head to the side and considered what she said, but he avoided looking at her.

There was truth in what she said. When was the last time he had made a joke about her or teased her about something? He couldn't remember. His recent memories were of him carefully avoiding any mention of her time in Capitol prison or anything that would remind her of the times she had been sold off. All of these were new territory for him.

He held her when she had her nightmares but avoided any contact with her the next day when she was awake. He spoke to her as civilly as he could manage although there were days when he snapped at her.

Every weekend, an errand boy would stop by the house to deliver him his supply of alcohol when the shipment came in from the Capitol and each month, household supplies were delivered. He had no reason to leave his house and he had arranged it that way so that he would always be able to keep an eye on Effie.

She had suffered because of him on many occasions before and he wasn't about to let it happen again while under his watch. Apparently, try as he might to be discreet, Effie wasn't exactly stupid. He bet she could see right through his act.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable in your own house. I don't. Please, please look at me," she pleaded.

He sighed and turned his body towards her so that their knees were touching, forcing himself to look at her.

"If you're doing all this –" she gestured aimlessly towards herself and the general direction of the kitchen, "because you still feel guilty, then don't, Haymitch. I told you in the hospital that I've forgiven you and I don't bear any ill will towards you. Please believe me when I said that."

She was crying and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Wiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb, he finally allowed himself to speak.

"Shh, don't cry. I don't know what to do with crying women."

She smiled slightly. "None of it was your fault, you know? Your family and your girlfriend were killed, all because the Capitol didn't like defiance. It wasn't your fault, you were only a boy trying to survive. My imprisonment wasn't your fault either. I made the choice to stay behind, you didn't make me."

Her breath hitched and she sniffed. "I was sold off because ... Because I realised the Games were cruel and I said some terrible things about the Capitol. That was my mistake, not yours."

"But –" He tried to make his opinion known before he was cut off.

"No, I know what you're going to say. You misbehaved and I had to take the fall. Yes, I did but I've already told you that I've forgiven you. I did it because I wanted to see you safe and you're safe now, you're here in front of me."

"Why?" he asked. The same question he had asked her in the hospital room nearly a year ago. A question she had avoided answering.

"Because I ... I care about you."

She was looking at him now with a fierce determination in her eyes as though challenging him to disagree with her. The only sign that showed she was nervous was the fact that she was biting her lips.

"Don't go," he whispered, finally. "Stay. Stay here with me. I'll insult you every day, if you want. Make fun of you and argue with you. I'll disagree with you on almost everything."

Effie nodded, her eyes growing softer.

"Don't be so harsh on the insults," she replied.

"I'll try," he chuckled.

He turned his palm so that it faced upwards and waited for her to make the next move. If this was going to work, she would have to learn to trust him and that he wouldn't hurt her the way all those other men had.

Effie looked at him and down to his hand again. Slowly, she placed her hand in his where it closed around hers. Haymitch tugged her forward so that her head rested against his shoulder, their knees still touching in the position they were in.

"There some things you can't go back on and we can't go back on this, Effie," he told her, kissing her temple. He felt her nodding in agreement, felt the tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

She turned her head so that her mouth was near his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck.

"We'll be okay, Haymitch."

Maybe they would be, maybe they wouldn't but he wasn't alone now and it was easier to face the world when one didn't have to do it alone.

* * *

**A/N: Oh wow, Haymitch POV alone nearly reached 10,000 words. **

**Anyway, that's it, everyone. The end of Darkest Before Dawn. I hope you like the last bit of scene with Haymitch & Effie and I really do hope, you enjoyed the entire story!**

**Please leave a review & thanks for reading!**


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